


wonder where your heart came from

by Kaynara



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: FatT NBslash Exchange, Fluff, Getting Together, Hair Braiding, Other, Post Miracle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-10 12:51:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15949724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaynara/pseuds/Kaynara
Summary: Tender has missed Fourteen, during that long year.





	wonder where your heart came from

**Author's Note:**

> a gift for my good friend paz @ootron on twitter, for the nbslash exchange! <3 squeaking in under the deadline, as usual, with good tenfour domesticity. i can't believe it took me this long to write them, i hope you like it!!

It’s been a while since they saw each other. Fourteen looks tired. Worthy of Grace had always seemed to fill the room, eye-catching in every sense of the word. The Body Politic is small and unassuming in comparison, sharp angles and pale colours combining to give a sense of something like harmlessness. Funny, for a former assassin. But there’s still that steely determination there underneath it all.  
  
“Tender,” they say, and then stop, like they’ve forgotten how to talk to her.  
  
“Fourteen,” Tender says warmly in response. “It’s really good to see you.”  
  
She means it. Even though Fourteen’s clothes are rumpled, and even though their hair is a mess, like they’ve been trying to run their fingers through it while it’s tied back. Strands are falling haphazardly over their eyes and Fourteen has to keep pushing them back every minute or so, but absently, like they’re long used to it at this point. Tender’s fingers itch to put them back in some kind of order, to reach out and brush her fingers over their face. It’s not a new desire, but the strength of it scares her a little.  
  
She doesn’t reach out. Fourteen just nods, smiles a practiced, professional smile, and moves past her, deeper into their ship.  
  


* * *

  
“Do you want me to put that up for you?”  
  
“Oh, no, it’s fine.”  
  
“It’s not fine, it’s in the way.”  
  
Fourteen pauses where they’re halfway through brushing a strand of hair out of the eyes and gets a thoughtful look on their face. They’re both in the central living area. Fourteen has been chewing on their hard light pen as they’ve stared at the same file in the mesh for the last fifteen minutes. Tender has mostly been watching them, but she’s got a book that she’s been occasionally flipping through to keep up an alibi.  
  
“Come on, don’t be ridiculous, you need a break.” Without waiting for another weak protest, Tender makes an impatient beckoning motion and Fourteen acquiesces with a sigh, rising and stumbling forward to sit in front of the couch. She puts her book down and arranges herself behind them, knees on either side of their shoulders, and pulls their ponytail out carefully.  
  
Fourteen leans back into her hands and sighs, shoulders dropping as they relax, the tension visibly draining from their limbs already. Tender runs her fingers through their hair and they hum contentedly.  
  
“It’s been a while since I’ve done this for you, huh,” Tender says, mostly to herself. Worthy of Grace had never deigned to sit on the floor, but otherwise it’s close enough that she could feel herself slipping back into the easy rhythm they shared.  
  
“Diverging paths sometimes meet one another again.” Fourteen hesitates, and Tender catches sight of them nervously messing with their sleeves. They desperately want this to work out between them as well, she realises. “I thought of you often, Tender.”  
  
Simple words, but Tender feels a warmth she’s missed, deep in her chest.  
  
The motions are familiar, but complex, and Tender has to watch herself carefully as she weaves the strands together. These days, Fourteen’s hair is shorter than what would be ideal, but she makes it work. It’s stunningly intricate, spiralling up onto the back of their head in a satisfying pattern that is close enough to building architecture to scratch that itch in the back of Tender’s head.  
  
It takes far too long, but Fourteen doesn’t seem to mind. Their breathing is slow and steady, their eyes closed as she finishes the pattern. She can feel their contentment spread through the space and she smiles to herself, happy that for now at least, it’s almost like they’re back in the Beloved Dust again, when everything was a bit more stable. Easier, in some ways.  
  
When she’s done, she almost doesn’t want to say anything, and she pretends to tuck a few loose strands in for a few more seconds, just so she doesn’t have to break the moment. Eventually though, she can’t pretend, and she rests her hands on their shoulders, squeezing a little.  
  
Fourteen stirs slowly. With a thought from Tender, there’s a mirror on the far side of the room, and Fourteen goes to it. They look surprised at their own reflection. They do look different with their hair up in such an elaborate style - more imperious, maybe, a little harder around the edges.   
  
“It’s a lovely braid, Tender,” they say admiringly, twisting to look at it from as many angles as they can. She concentrates for a second and creates another mirror out of the Mirage to hold up behind them. In the reflection, Fourteen smiles at her gratefully. The strange, unfamiliar image of Fourteen dissipates and she feels her heart jump.  
  
“Where did you learn this one?” they say, and her heart goes from fluttering to sinking through her stomach because she had known, logically, but this—   
  
The words are out before she has time to think about them.  
  
“You taught me. Worthy of Grace taught me.”  
  
Their smile drops immediately and they look away. The easiness that had been back between them breaks. Tender wants to reach out and pull them close, anything to smooth away the worried crease in between their eyes. She should have known better.  
  
“Oh. I’m sorry.” Their voice is quiet, distant again. All their progress lost.  
  
Their hands go up to hover around the braid, touching the strands hesitantly as if they’re trying to remember. Tender can’t resist any more, and she reaches out to gently take their hands in her own. Fourteen makes a surprised noise and turns awkwardly to face her.  
  
“I could teach you again, if you want,” Tender says quietly. “You said it was a _Mirrors_ thing.”  
  
They give her a small, grateful smile. “I’d like that.”  
  


* * *

  
It goes surprisingly slowly. Tender sits in front of Fourteen and creates a mesh light projection to demonstrate on. She goes the motions slowly and Fourteen follows along, their small fingers clumsily tugging her hair into place.  
  
But a few hours in (after Gig ran through, filmed for five minutes and then got bored), they’ve coaxed her hair into a messy but serviceable version of the spiral bun.  
  
“I might need a bit more practice,” they say, hovering behind her as she pats it into shape in the mirror.  
  
“Looking for an excuse to spend more time with me, Fourteen?” Tender teases, but she’s looking right at them in the reflection and doesn’t miss the way they turn suddenly away.  
  
“Well— not necessarily, but— I mean, we haven’t seen each other in a while—”  
  
“I missed you too, you idiot,” she says fondly, turning and stepping into their line of sight in one fluid motion. They look up at her, surprised, and now she can see the faint blush on their cheeks as well.  
  
It’s easy from there, effortless even, to step forward and catch an escaping strand of their hair between her fingers, to bring her other hand up to brush their cheek. She feels something settles into place between them, here and now, a sensation of symmetry rippling out through the Mirage.  
  
That determination is back in their eyes, a certainty that makes Tender grin fiercely even as Fourteen leans up on their toes, their arms going to her shoulders and tugging her down to meet them.  
  
The kiss is soft, and sweet. Mostly there’s that feeling of _rightness_ , magnified.  
  
“I’ve been waiting a long time for that,” Tender says when she eventually breaks away, and Fourteen smiles, a little self-conscious.  
  
“I have as well.”  
  
Apart, together, apart, and together once more.  
  
Tender’s confident that this time their paths will remain entwined.


End file.
